


Shade's Journal Seven

by Devilc



Series: Shade's Journals [7]
Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Starman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-02
Updated: 2010-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 16:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apology accepted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shade's Journal Seven

**Author's Note:**

> Another story that took me completely by surprise as I wrote it.

Jack Knight has a son  I am rather stunned by the news and the manner in which it was delivered  but I get ahead of myself....

My last encounter with Jack having gone so badly, it was some weeks before I saw him again  really the young lad has no idea how close he came to being killed.

But after the sting of that betrayal had passed, I decided that I wanted to see Jack again and so showed up at his flat one night, and as usual, managed to afford him some fright. (Something that brought me no little frission of joy.)

"Good evening, Jack."

"Fuck you, Shade. Don't you ever knock first?" He responded after a little of the color returned to his cheeks. "So, well, what do you want?"

One of the things I like most about Jack is that he doesn't mince words. I decided to return the favor, "It's been about three weeks since you nearly raped me and I nearly killed you, but decided to leave you with  how would you say  'a raging stiffie' instead. Lot of water under the bridge since then, I thought I'd drop by and here I am." I flounced on to Jack's antique velvet settee for effect. I cannot begin to describe the mood that overtook me, I can merely state that I was in rare form that night. I wanted to have fun, and would  at Jack's expense, of course.

Jack said nothing but simply let out a deep, ragged sigh. "What do you want?"

I gave into impulse and decided to prod him, "A good, repentant blow job." To my utter horror (and yet delight) he immediately dropped to his knees, opened my fly, fished my sex out, and swallowed it down. Though it was as technically superb a performance as Jack has given, it lacked in passion. I had, if such a thing is possible, a bad climax. Jack had given me release with no satisfaction. Even the sight of him gulping my seed produced in me no delight.

After he had finished, he perfunctorily tucked me back in and buttoned up the fly of my trousers. If it had been a cold act, he would have wounded me less, but Jack's utter indifference pierced me to the core. My mercurial and mischievous mood vanished  replaced by something close to despair. Long moments passed, me sitting on the settee, he on the floor, head slightly bowed, studying the cushion I sat on. "What do you want?" He finally asked.

"Not this," I murmured. Silence settled in again. "Let's take a walk," I suggested.

Giving Jack a moment to grab his leather coat, I clasped his hand and took us to the woods by his father's old observatory  now Opal city's newest park. The city fathers in their wisdom had hauled in toys for the children to play in but had not torn down the shattered hulk of Ted Knight's first observatory, merely fenced it off  as if that would stop an enterprising and curious youth. Already the observatory, which loomed over us like a ruined art deco castle, sported several graffiti "tags." We wandered over to a large block of concrete and steel and sat, listening to the crickets sing.

Jack spoke after a few moments, "I'm sorry, y'know. Sorry the way this whole damn thing has turned out. It's the way I am with relationships  I have the reverse Midas touch. And I know you were planning tonight to be some sort of reconciliation between us, and I, I fucked it up. Sorry."

I sat for a moment then said, "What's wrong, Jack?" This, knowing full well I shouldn't, knowing full well this would lead to my paying a terrible price in the end. Before we had had companionship and sex, but now, now I would let Jack build a bond, and when it ended (as all things do) I would have yet another scar on the black and shriveled thing passing for my heart.

Drawing in a deep ragged breath, Jack said, "Do you remember the Mist?"

"Of course I do, it was he who grew senile, not I." Jack's black look let me know my attempt at levity had fallen far short of the mark.

"Well, his daughter...Nash, she took over his legacy, I guess you could call it. She's the new Mist. And well, everything that went down, with me killing Kyle and her father falling off the deep end, it twisted her." He paused a moment then continued, "You know what she did here about a year ago."

"Yes." The little minx had waged quite campaign of terror, "A good thing for her that I was otherwise occupied at the time, or things would have gone harshly for her." (And would be harsh if she ever showed her face in Opal again.

"She's in love with me, but she hates me at the same time," Jack blurted, pale with upset. "She kidnapped me and drugged me  I thought I was having a cool erotic dream  but she used me to father a child." He paused for long moments, then choked out, "I have a son. His  his eyes are blue." Jack sprang up and wiped his nose as the tears silently rolled down his cheeks, agitatedly he paced to and fro. "Now isn't that the most fucked up thing you ever heard of? She plans to kill me  try to anyhow  the next time she sees me, but we have a son." He broke utterly on the last word and began sobbing outright.

Wordlessly I drew him to me and let him sob into the wool of my great coat, heedless of the smell it caused, and pondered the sad irony of things. That Jack Knight, Starman, would be sobbing on the shoulder of the Shade, an (ex)supervillian. That I was probably having a more intimate and nurturing moment with Jack than he could get from his father, for though they loved each other deeply, they had wounded each other too many times for comfortable and easy intimacy. And I was a tiny bit jealous of Jack, for siring the son I could never have.


End file.
